


Under the Sycamore

by orphan_account



Category: DCU
Genre: Identity Porn, M/M, Presentation Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:25:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have this game where they try not to get caught.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Sycamore

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of identity kink here which I think has a lot to do with the fact that there can be a lot of identity stuff found in the source material. If that's how you want to play it. Therefore, Bruce is referred to almost exclusively as Matches Malone in this.

Here’s Matches Malone and his gal—if you say anything about her strong jawline, he’ll break your neck. They’ve got a kid now, too—Mini Matches. No one who knows Matches actually believes it.

Matches has had his hand on the girl’s thigh the entire night. He’s foul, it’s true, but she seems to revel in the attention that he’s giving her. Two drinks into the night and they’re already running to the bathroom right after each other. They can’t even keep their hands off of each other.

The door shuts behind them and Dick doesn’t actually care that it’s Matches he’s with, not Bruce. He slides onto his knees and can feel tiles pressing into his skin as he pulls open the fly to Matches’ pants with deft fingers. “Matches,” he says, and it’s in this high, girlish Jersey accent, “it sure was nice to bring us out tonight.”

And keeping with Matches’ inability to be a gentleman, he hears, “There’s no such thing as a free meal, sugar.” Oh, he knows that. He knows. He smacks his lips together, and bites down on the bottom one, feels Matches’ thick fingers thread through the wig he’s wearing and rub at the netting. Manicured fingers draw Matches’ cock out into the open and Dick smiles. Those same fingers (fake, French tipped) jock Matches, drawing a pleased noise from the older man. “Yeah, that’s the way to do it…” Even in moments like these, the nasally accent is still there. Matches grabs himself and pushes past Dick’s bright red lips, smearing the lipstick on himself and Dick’s mouth. 

Dick smiles around Matches’ cock, lips tight. He sucks it in and bobs his head back and forth with very little prodding from Matches’ heavy hand. He loves this part, even when it goes far enough in to almost hit the back of his throat—it’s the only part of Matches that still tastes like Bruce, and that’s something that can never be covered up. He laps at that taste, tries to become one with it. 

Matches sighs. “Yeah, that’s good, baby.” He pulls Dick back by the hair and groans, jacking himself a few more times before coming on Dick’s face. It lands in his mouth and on his nose and dribbles down his chin, but Dick can’t help but try to catch it before it falls with his tongue. This part is embarrassing and humiliating, and Dick loves it and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Matches tugs Dick up and kisses him, tasting himself in Dick’s mouth and getting some of the lipstick that’s left caught in the mustache and the corner of his lips. “Clean up. I’ll see you back at the table in ten.”

Dick smiles at him and nods. “I’ll see you then,” he says with the same girlish accent as before. And it takes a few seconds after Matches leaves the bathroom for Dick to really even think about cleaning himself up.


End file.
